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Thursday, 25 July 2013

Hello fellow book lovers. Today I'm featured on Annabel Smith's blog talking about one of my favourite books - Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives. Annabel Smith is a published author of two books - A New Map of the Universe and Whiskey Charlie Foxtrot. Check out her blog and read her books!

Wednesday, 10 July 2013

And
so Mr. Banks has passed on, leaving us behind to ponder the greatness of his
work. And it is great. And he was also satisfyingly prolific, apparently
capable of writing a novel in three months. And he was a witty and cultured guy
(pardon the pun). That’s a lot of ands. When I bought Matter from a second-hand
bookstore in Bunbury nearly two years ago I never imagined that by the time I
got around to picking it up again Banks would be diagnosed with incurable liver
cancer and would die as I was reading it. And it made me sad.

Matter is the seventh Culture
novel of nine and at the time it came after seven years of no new Culture
novels. Will there be more? Does Banks have any almost complete Culture novels
tucked away for posthumous release? Whatever may happen Banks’ stature as one
of the great science fiction writers of the last few decades is assured. Matter is not the greatest
Culture novel, but it is certainly excellent.

The
premise and plot of Matter is typically complex and is not summarized easily.
The novel contains one of Banks’ great inventions – a Shellworld called
Sursaman. Shellwords were built by a long departed alien race called the Veil
and it is one of four thousand that were initially created, with half of them
destroyed by another alien race called the Iln, who are also extinct. Different
alien races live on the habitable levels inside the Shellworld and each level
is gigantic, with its own geography, atmosphere and astonishing wonders.

Such
a premise allows Banks to indulge himself and he certainly does, but with
sometimes mixed results. Matter allows Banks to bring a complete medieval humanoid
civilization to life called the Sarl. There are epic battles, courtly duplicity
and manipulations of the Sarl by their mentoring alien species the Oct. Prince
Ferbin, Heir to the throne, flees his home level and much of the narrative
follows his fortunes as he tries to avenge his father’s wrongful death. Enter
Djan Seriy, his sister who long ago became part of the Culture’s covert
organisation Special Circumstances. Special Circumstances appears in most of
the Culture novels and as usual there is great entertainment to be had with the
amazing technology possessed by the Culture, not to mention the moral
ambiguities that come with such power.

With
most of the usual Culture tropes in place a wild imaginative ride is
guaranteed, however Matter is unevenly paced. There is a long preamble that sets up
the main players and plot arcs, but does so with slightly less panache than
you’d expect from Banks. It takes a while but once things get going Matter does resolve into an
absorbing read. One of the many highlights comes when Djan visits an Oct space
habitat, which allows Banks to let his brilliant imagination to run wild. Djan
is accompanied by her sentient combat drone that is operating covertly and is
therefore cunningly disguised as a dildo, revealing that Banks’ usual sly
humour is fully present.

The
endgame of Matter is slightly rushed and if you were taking notice of the
clues earlier in the novel it is also perhaps a bit predictable. This is a
minor criticism because Banks is such a quality writer that he makes up for any
shortcomings with his erudite style, incredible imagination and his ability to
create believable characters, even when they are machines or are totally alien.
Apparently after his untimely death sniffy critics mostly talked about the
literature he wrote as Iain Banks, rather than the brilliant science fiction he
wrote with the added M. between his first and second name. That’s a shame
because Banks is one of the greatest science fiction writers of any era and his
unique sensibility has become highly influential. Only last week I was watching
a rerun of the second episode of the first series of the Dr. Who reboot and
during the scenes where the last human appears on the viewing platform to
witness the final hours of planet Earth I realized that what I was watching was
pure Iain M. Banks. And that made me smile.

Monday, 1 July 2013

Richard
Ford is best known for his novel The Sportswriter, his 1985 story of a
failed novelist turned sportswriter who is faced with the deep crisis of a dead
son. Its sequel – Independence Day (1995) won the Pulitzer Prize. Ford
is also a noted short story writer and has been seen as being part of the Dirty
Realism school of writing along with such writers as Raymond Carver, Cormac
McCarthy, Carson
McCullers and of course the great Charles
Bukowski.

Not
having even read a single word of Ford’s writing previously, I came to Canada as a total Ford
novice, absolutely free from any knowledge or opinion. My first impression was
that Ford is a writer of nuance and craft, taking his time to build the plot
and reveal his characters. At first I appreciated this and warmed to the
fifteen year old Dell Parsons, who narrates the novel retrospectively from the
vantage point of retirement. Dell lives with his twin sister, Berner and their
parents Bev (the broad shouldered ex-airman) and the frustrated Jewish would be
intellectual Neeva. It’s a sad grey world of isolation and confusion for Dell
and Berner and it slowly becomes apparent that there is a deep psychological
element to Canada that is perhaps more evident in hindsight. The
motivations of Dell’s parents are murky at best, even to Dell himself, who
comes across as a bewildered innocent.

With
a narrative pace bordering on catatonic Dell recounts his dysfunctional family
life and the events that lead up to his parents robbing a bank. During this
long first part Ford’s measured and meticulous style becomes repetitive and
Dell’s repeated ruminations about the psychology of his parents decision making
leading up to the robbery becomes tedious. When the robbery occurs it’s an
anticlimax and the inevitable consequences take forever to arrive; squandering
any tension generated by events leading up to Dell’s parents arrest. I’m giving
nothing away here due to the fact that nearly every major event in Canada is revealed well in
advance (from the first line!), which turns out to be a fatal flaw.

The
second part finds Dell deposited in a small town in Canada by a friend of Neeva
to avoid the long reach of the authorities. Initially the shift to Canada
brings the novel alive, particularly when Dell meets the louche Charley
Quarters. Charley provides a much-needed presence, with his seedy manner,
penchant for lipstick, rouge and poetry. Dell finds himself marginalized,
living in an overflow shack away from the main hotel in a one-horse town that
survives due to geese hunters visiting from America. Suddenly the reader’s
interest is revived and the pathos of Dell’s situation hits home. But once
again any tension generated is wasted when the dodgy character of hotelier
Arthur Remlinger comes to the fore, with his oblique character traits that
fascinate Dell so much and his semi-interesting back-story as a political
radical. There is a climax of sorts, when Remlinger has to deal with his past
catching up with him, but its execution is fumbled and it merely becomes just
another event witnessed at a remove.

A
strange ambivalence permeates this novel; it’s difficult to connect with the
characters lives due to Ford’s ponderous style and Dell’s monochrome
recollections. There are long sections that you could only describe as being
dull, which is frustrating because there is a sense of something deeper lurking
there, something that speaks of the dark vagaries of human existence. Dell is
fascinated with chess and bee keeping, two seemingly disparate pastimes which
actually represent his subconscious need for order in his life which is at the
mercy of the capriciousness of wayward adults. If the prose had been more vital
and there had been more interest generated by the tension of not knowing what
was going to come next then such deeper aspects of Canada would have far more
import. Ford can certainly write, as his reputation suggests, however the novel
is a disappointment, which is a shame really.

Synopsis

This blog is a project designed to help improve my writing skills and to provide a record of what I have read over the years. Hopefully it will also be a resource for those curious about literature. I mostly read literary fiction, cult books, non fiction and science fiction. I also run book clubs at Subiaco Public Library, where I’ve worked happily amongst the books for the last 10 years; so some of the books I review have been selected by my book club members, which helps introduce me to authors I might normally ignore. I have also completed a B.A. in literature at U.W.A. Also you’ll find no links to online bookstores on this blog. I love bookstores and I encourage everyone to support them.